


take me to new heights

by punkrocklouis



Series: oddly specific au's i need [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Businessman Louis, Fluff, Insecure Louis, M/M, Slight Insecurity, harry thinks hes real fuckin funny, just when louis changes clothes, oddly specific au's i need, window washer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-01-12
Packaged: 2018-03-07 08:19:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3167969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkrocklouis/pseuds/punkrocklouis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>window washer au</p><p>louis loves his new office and the window washer outside is okay too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	take me to new heights

**Author's Note:**

> yo i'm back w a series starting off with this window washer au. its going to be a part of a series with the "oddly specific au's i need" off of tumblr. thanks to fari for pressuring me to do this and thank you dani for naming it love yall.

When Louis got his promotion, he was ecstatic. Not only was it a promotion, but he got his own _office_.  It sure wasn’t the biggest office the company had, but it was better than the measly cubicle he was in when he was working with the others. Now he got his own office space, a place to actually decorate and his own room to customize. And that’s what Louis was doing, he was moving his personal belongings into his office, placing the little gold plated nametag on the desk with a little proud flag stuck out the top. His cinnamon brown hair was swept to the side, a grin slapped onto his face as he moved all his junk into the room with empty copy paper boxes.

 

He looked out the window at his new view; no longer was he staring at the side of a brick building, but at the whole city (and a man on the window washing scaffold, but he didn’t pay very much mind to him). His smile didn’t falter as he placed various items on his desk, a framed picture of his family, a pen holder, paper clips, and a desk calendar. It was beginning to look homey, when he heard a knock on the window. There was no possible way anyone could be pranking him; he was on the twelfth floor for god’s sake. He flickered his gaze around, seeing the window washer grinning and soaping up the window, his gloved hand drawing something on the tempered glass.

 

 _"NICE AZZ,"_ the writing began to say after a few confused looks from Louis. The window washer just grinned proudly at the writing. Louis laughed, the ‘S’s backwards, making them look like ‘Z’s instead. Louis was used to getting compliments, he knew he was attractive. He was wearing a blue button up, buttoned all the way up and the sleeves rolled up to the middle of his forearm. Tucked in, the shirt cut off at his bum, white pants accentuating the broad curve of his ass. He was wearing white and blue suspenders too, furthering the extent to his bum looking so there. But it wasn’t just the lad’s cute little body that brought the window washer in, it was his cute attitude that begged the window washer to speak to him, but it was a shame there was three inches of glass in the way. Louis looked at the window washer with curious eyes, his lips moving but when he realized the washer probably couldn’t hear him, he turned to make sure no one was listening to him and thinking he was too crazy.

 

He got a good idea all of the sudden, Louis did. He loaded up his computer and logged on, opening a word document and increasing the font size to a readable format for Harry's distance. He typed fast, but accurately as the message depicted out as 'What's your name?' The window washer wrote out his name in the suds, the word 'Harry' forming and Louis felt the word form on his lips. Louis smiled gently as Harry dallied around, slowly washing the window and squeegeeing down the large glass pane. Louis sat at his desk, typing out 'Hello Harry, I'm Louis :)' and Harry's eyes flickered up, waving at Louis once they met eye contact.

 

When he worked in his cubicle stall, he actually had a different window washer; a black haired boy with a bitter glance and a smoldering look that made you feel like you're getting judged.

 

Louis just guessed since he was on a different floor and a different side of the building, he had a different window washer.

 

Whatever though.

 

–

 

It was beginning to become a habit really: every two weeks, Harry would start on his window ledge machinery at approximately 6:55, fixating himself from the bottom of the building to the top, Louis guessed. He was always at Louis’s window at 7:40 ante meridiem, staying there for twenty minutes before he had to move on.

 

Louis thought it was starting to get tiring though, waiting for Harry to write backwards on the window. Apparently, Harry thought the same thing, because three months later, six visits from Harry, there was a small packaging box on his desk. It wasn’t abnormal for Louis to get packages in the mail, but this one seemed peculiar as there was no return address. He opened it anyways after settling in his office at seven, opening his briefcase – he thought it went along with the office look quite well, though he’d never admit that there was only a folder and his phone inside the case – and preparing for his first client of the day, arriving at twenty after eight. Inside the box on his desk, was a walkie–talkie, one of those that you’d buy at the dollar store (it still had its price label on it) and he was confused at first, but there was a note at the bottom. It was written on plain notebook paper – college ruled, Louis noted – and it read, _‘Thought this’d be easier than talking through glass. And I’d rather fancy hearing your voice. Cheers, Harry xx’_. Louis chuckled softly, getting everything ready for his client.

 

Louis worked for a good amount of time before he heard a faint tap on the window behind him, which could mean one of two things. Either it was Harry ready to wash the windows, or a bird hitting the glass (it happened once before; Harry was _not_ happy about cleaning that up). Louis guessed it was the former. He turned with a smile, seeing Harry with his little bitty walkie–talkie that looked miniscule compared to his rather large hands. Louis held his up as well, a small leap in his chest when he heard Harry talk for the very first time.

 

"So did you like your gift?" His slow voice was like molasses, melted honey, soup in his throat. Louis almost melted then and there, his throat raw. He was one–hundred–percent sure his face was about as red as a tomato freshly picked from the vine. Harry gave a knowing smirk, releasing the talk button.

 

His throat was dry, his cheeks probably red, and his jaw was slightly unhinged, his thin lips parted. Louis regained his composure though and sat up a bit straighter, pressing the plastic talk button, "Yeah, I loved it," Louis said breathlessly, his eyes fluttering up to look at Harry.

 

It was his turn to look shocked this time; no longer was Harry showing off his slow, deep voice, but he was gaping at the man inside the office building. Louis smiled hesitantly, seeing Harry look at him with a look he couldn’t even describe.

 

It was a few moments later when Louis brought the talkie back up to his lips, never breaking contact with the boy on the other side of the window. "Are you going to keep staring at me?"

 

Harry swallowed and shook his head as he brought his own device to his lips, "Sorry, no. I just – I didn't realize your voice would be that high." _We totally complement each other_ , is what Harry was thinking.

 

Louis's eyes narrowed, looking down at the ground, "I'm –"

 

"I didn't mean it in a bad way!" Harry cut through. He was unhappy he made Louis sad, a frown wasn't meant to sit on the boy's face like it was. "I'm sorry if I offended you, Lou, it's just that your voice is so much higher and prettier than mine, and I just think we kind of complement each other."

 

Louis bit his lip for a moment and then a grin broke out on his face. He looked up at Harry and held his hand up to the glass, his free hand. His other hand containing the talkie was in his other, and he pressed the button down and said quietly, "Put your hand up to the glass." He commanded, and of course Harry obliged. His hand was massive compared to Louis, and Harry didn't fail to recognize that.

 

"You know what they say about big hands, right?" Harry said suggestively, raising his brows. Louis rolled his eyes, hand pulling away and retreating back to his chair. "Big feet." Louis heard after beats of silence on the other line.

 

"Harry, please, you're not funny –"

 

"You know what they say about big feet right?" Harry's shit eating grin shone from outside, the corners of his mouth were at each ear and his dimples were prominent.

 

"Harry please don't finish that sentence, I'm begging you for the love of Christ. If you say what I think you're about to say, I'm not going to talk to you for weeks. You are such a ten year old," There was a pregnant pause, Harry looking directly at Louis, and Louis was about to apologize, but after a few moments of silence, Harry brought the talkie to his lips again.

 

"Big meat."

 

–

 

Two weeks passed, and Louis was beginning a new habit. He was waking up late every day, sleeping through his alarm, no matter how long he set it for. He even had his mum call him at the time he needed to wake up, he was so desperate. He was waking late which also meant he was late to work. Everyday. So needless to say, Louis was in a rush when he knew it was Harry’s day to wash the windows.

 

He has his laundry beside him in his car, sitting in the passenger side and just taunting him. It occurred to him he might get a speeding ticket but he didn’t really care. All he wanted to do is get into his office before Harry saw him in his ugly sweatpants and old ratty band shirt, a bleach stain right in the back of it, nonetheless. He didn’t even bother to put contacts in, is the thing. So he’s wearing those black rimmed, thick glasses that only served to explain how blind he really is. He sighed, smelling his minty fresh breath. At least he had the time to brush his teeth and do his hair and spray his cologne on him (to mask the smell of like, three days without a shower). Whatever, though.

 

Louis took his neatly folded clothes and ran inside, almost tripping on his way inside. He had yet to hear the receptionist at the office say anything but annoying sounds and side remarks. "Late again, Louis? Your file is in your email." She said lazily and Louis just nodded and went to the lift, ascending to the twelfth floor. Once he got there, he sat his briefcase – yes, he still has one – on his desk and started stripping the band shirt off, his back turned to the window. He shed his sweatpants down, his nice dress shoes a rather odd choice compared to his lazy day appearance, but Louis just hadn’t wanted to change his shoes after he already ran late.

 

He was wearing _Ellen_ underwear, hips bent down and bum unfortunately being too extravagant to be covered by the skimpy underwear he had on. Louis skid his hands down the front of his pants, situating his dick to the right so it wouldn't be too noticable when he pulled the black skinny jeans onto his body. While he was situating himself, the walkie–talkie on his desk let out a soft fuzzy noise, meaning Harry was about to speak. Shit.

 

Louis froze, slipping his hands from his underwear and shyly turning around, getting met by a stunned Harry. His talkie was to his lips, but he didn't say anything. All he did was gape.

 

Louis shuffled around, shyly tucking himself behind the desk and slipping the black skinny jeans onto his hips. He fixed his boxer–briefs in his pants and also his displaced cock. He pulled his tummy in slightly and took the talkie from his desk while turning around.

 

"Nice underwear," Harry said, still shocked at the image he saw. "Didn't know you wanted to put on a show for me." He winked cheekily and Louis groaned internally, pulling the navy blue button–up onto his shoulders and buttoning each up expertly.

 

"Shove it up your arse, Harry," Louis said, a tired look on his face. "I've been getting up late everyday and I'm so tired, I'm not going to try to keep up with your flirtation today." He confessed, and Harry frowned sympathetically.

 

"Hey, babe, listen," Harry said, his eyebrows scrunching and his hand on the window. Louis nodded, getting closer to the window and placing his hand over the spot where Harry held his (it was kind of their thing). His hand was so large compared to Louis and he was amazed. He was amazed at Harry's hand size and Harry's compassion and Harry's flirting ability and Harry's everything. "If this happens again tomorrow, go down to the tea shop down the road from here. It's called 'The Tea Kettle' and they make great tea. It will totally lighten you up, I promise."

 

"Alright, Harry, if you say so."

 

–

 

You know the next day, Louis didn't wake up on time. He still had to rush out his flat and wear fucking sweatpants on the way to work. He drove through the city as usual and he was about to switch lanes to go to his office building when he saw the tea shop Harry told him about before. Louis pulled into the roadside with difficulty (he can't parallel park, sue him) and got out, checking the time. He didn't have his first client until eight forty–five that day, so he was moderately okay with getting a cuppa to go and just walking to his office building after changing his clothes in the quaint shop.

 

He walked in the café with a bit of hesitation, he didn't look like a luxurious business person, he looked like a right bum. His glasses were on his face, hair flipped in its normal fringe, a band tee on (this one not stained) and his younger sister's sweatpants – she was fifteen and he could fit into her PINK sweatpants, that has to mean something.

 

And that's when he heard a familiar voice, "Shit, Zayn you're going to ruin the filter!" Harry worked here. Louis politely waited in line and ordered a English Brekkie tea, shyly waiting for the order to be ready. He stood where the tea would be served and Harry handed him his cup, without looking up.

 

That's probably where Louis should say something. "Hey – Harry," He said quietly, but Harry didn't hear him. The black haired boy, Zayn, presumably, did though and turned around, looking at the twenty three year old business man.

 

"Hey, H," Zayn said, drilling his elbow into Harry's side. Harry looked up to the direction Zayn was referencing to and he smiled wide, taking off his apron and sliding out from behind the counter, walking to Louis.

 

"Hi love," Harry said slowly; he was dressed great. Louis only saw him in layers of coats and thick pants to face the coolness of the air outside at the altitude of the building. And Louis was wearing PINK sweatpants. Women's sweatpants. "Nice sweatpants." Harry just _had_ to mention them, the prick.

 

"They're not mine, I swear, I have a younger sister and –" Louis's blush was rising redder and redder and he didn't come to the tea shop to get ridiculed by someone he thought was a friend.

 

Harry interrupted him, his hands on Louis's dainty shoulders and a small smile on his face. Louis took in a small breath as he felt Harry's eyes on him. Louis felt like crying. "It's alright, darling. You look quite nice today. I have to admit, I kind of like this look better on you than your work clothes." And work. He almost forgot. Harry nodded as if he got the memo and went back behind the counter to tell Zayn he'd be back later. He pulled his coat over Louis's shoulders, Harry himself having a long sleeve sweater on.

 

"Let's walk and talk, yeah?" Louis said softly, taking Harry's right hand into his left and tugging him outside. He had his bag over his shoulder with his work clothes inside, and shivered as the cool air hit his front. Harry followed along, neither of them saying anything for a bit until Louis finished his tea quickly.

 

"So I have a confession," Harry said, his smile less radiant and more hesitant. "I'm not actually the window washer for your building."

 

Louis stopped thinking for a moment, looking over at Harry with a confused face, then remembering the dark haired lad when he worked in the cubicles. "I know, I just never figured it out." And the other window washer's eyes flickered in his mind, the same ones he looked into at the tea shop.

 

Harry smiled brighter this time, his fingers interlocking with Louis's as they walked. "It was actually my best mate Zayn's job. He works at the tea shop with me, but he was sick your first day in your office, so I took over for him that day. And I took over for him ever since, but Zayn wants his job back," Harry explained, his slow voice sounding alien when he was talking fast like he was. "So like, no more flirting through the window."

 

Louis let out a laugh, and Harry's eyes were confused but bright. This was the first time he'd actually heard Louis's laugh, for they would never be holding down the talk button while laughing. Harry was in so much awe, he didn't even feel it coming.

 

They totally leaned in at the same time, Louis endeared by Harry's rambling and Harry entranced by Louis's laugh, he just wanted Louis to do it more. Their lips melted together on the curbside of the busy intersection, but neither the two of them bothered to be bothered by this. People were looking, sure, but Harry and Louis didn't care. All they cared about at that specific moment was each other. The feeling of their lips together kept Louis alive, and he loved the thrill of it. The same feeling made Harry melt alive, keeping him grounded to earth. It wasn't fireworks or heart explosions or anything relevant to the cliches in the dumb romance novels Harry reads or the romantic comedy movies Louis likes to watch while he secretly pines for a relationship like that. No, their kiss wasn't like any of that. It was more the feeling of togetherness: as if together, their troubles would be washed away.

 

**Author's Note:**

> my twitter is @epitomelwt hmu!!


End file.
